I did this.

It hadn’t been intention to cause a riot, to cause the boy to look as though the world were ending in triplicate, but clearly that is the result.

He had thought that the snake--though frightening--would be safe to both his student and to the boy whom he was sworn to protect.

It didn’t escape his notice that he is doing a piss poor job of it, but he prays that it will not be too late to rectify matters.

. . .

“Please wake up, little one,” He prays, sitting next to the bed in his guest bedroom.

Harry’s cold hand is warmer than before, but still limp and lifeless.  The boy had yet to awake, even after being examined by Pomfrey and the other heads-of-houses.

Minerva’s face had been pinched with concern, and she looked about as ancient and careworn as he felt.

Each of his coworkers asked him to relay their messages before leaving his quarters one by one.

“You’ll need sleep too, Severus,” Pomfrey had said, being the last one out the floo.

“I will sleep when I know that he is alive.  I will sleep only after I know he has heard my apology,” He had told her.

Now, sitting stiffly in a chair beside the boy’s bed, he thinks about what he should say.

. . .

There is a strange man sitting opposite him when Harry finally manages to find some sort of consciousness.  It is not Snape. He is no longer in the corridor, and though still chilled, he is beginning to feel warmth pushing on him from every side.

“Who’re you?”  Harry grunts, staring at the man.

The man grins, cold and sharp.

“My name is Salazar Slytherin.  And I have a question to ask of you, young Ward of Hogwarts.”